L'été de l'amour: The Summer of Love
by Evan-The Younger Ewan
Summary: My own version of the Moulin Rouge. Names are a bit different, but the storyline is the same: Writer and actress fall in love at a playhouse. High reviews on Fictionpress. Ch. 14 newly added!
1. Chapter One

Everything in this world has a beginning. Even the greatest things in life had a beginning. The Mona Lisa was once a blank canvas. Romeo and Juliet once sat on a blank piece of paper. And like all great things, this is the beginning of a story. A story about love. If you do no longer believe in love, you may put this book down and walk away forever; but, if you do believe in love the way I, myself, do, you should enjoy this book.  
He watched her from across the café like he had done everyday. As she slowly sipped her coffee, he would try to muster the courage and say the simplest thing. Hello. But somehow, this simple word seemed impossible to pass along to her. He had wanted to say such simple things since he had first seen her. He had come to Paris one year ago.  
"How could you leave me like this?" his mother would scream. She did not want her baby boy to leave her. "I must." he replied knowing full well, he had no reasons but personal ones to go. He wanted to find love. He wanted an adventure. In his heart, this all made sense; but in his head, he thought he was only living a fairy tale. She had, on the other hand, lived in Paris all her life. Her thick, brown hair was her best feature, and she took pride in it. Her brown eyes were so eloquently set off, she could strike intimidation into your very soul without even meaning to. And there he sat. His slightly darker brown hair done in an old-fashioned way that no one carried any longer, but seemed to suit his personality. His green puppy dog eyes could well enough get pity, but never had he used them to get love. For, as far as he knew, he could not. He could sit there and watch her ordinary day and become so intrigued with her, he would forget he was staring. And, as most people tend to do, she got the unnerving feeling of being watched. She glanced his way. He quickly turned his head away. Although the pain of not being able to turn it back was unbearable  
Oh no! he thought. Maybe she didn't notice me staring.  
However, she did notice. And she crossed the room toward his table. "Excuse moi moussier, but I could not help notice you were staring at me. Is there something the matter? Food in my teeth?"  
"Yes. I mean no! No! You're.you're beautiful," he dreaded saying that out loud the moment he had.  
She blushed, "You embarrass me monsieur."  
"I'm sorry."  
"No, no monsieur, you misunderstand. It is quite a good thing."  
"Oui?"  
"Oui. Now, what is your name?"  
"Evan, mademoiselle. And you?"  
"Ophelia, monsieur."  
"Well.Ophelia." he was at a lost for words, "would you like to join me for."  
"Dinner?"  
"No. Uh! Yes! Dinner."  
"Yes."  
"Oh well that's too bad." her words began to sink in. "You will? That's wonderful!" She giggled and he tried to change the subject, "Tomorrow night? Eight o' clock?"  
"I'll meet you out front of here. Don't be late." She returned to her table, gathered her belongings, and started for the door. When she arrived there, she turned back, smiled, and winked. As she finally left, Evan felt gladder than he ever had before. He ran out into the night of Paris. Singing out loud, he ran down every street. He could not remember ever being so happy. Nothing could dampen his spirits that night. Not even the residents who were yelling for quiet. He arrived at his tiny one-room apartment. The walls were stained and the floor was in dire need of repair. Clothes and belongings were scattered about and the bed was left unmade. But he did not have the money for anything better when he had arrived in Paris more than a year ago. That was when he first saw her. And now, he had finally spoken to her. It all seemed to happen in a blur, but the fact that he was to meet her the next night kept him his spirits high all night. He tumbled into his bed, still full clothed. He knew he would not be able to sleep in any matter. He only could look to the ceiling smiling and panting from the jog.  
Ophelia neither sung nor ran the way home. She simply strolled along the sidewalks quietly humming an old French tune she knew. She had always lived in Paris. Her thick French accent proved that. She finally came to her home. Her parents had died many years ago, and she had been the one to inherit the comfortably sized townhouse. She unlocked the door and walked into the hallway. She only stopped at the mirror to put down her keys and hat; she threw her coat onto an antique bench and continued down the hall.  
As she climbed the stairs, Ophelia could not help but smirk. She had obtained yet another date. She had never believed in such a thing as "love" for she had never felt it. She did have infatuations, yes, but anything beyond that never took place. She believed in a spouse for one thing: to carry on the family name. And, since she was a woman, she saw no point in settling down any time in the near future.  
She reached the landing and walked the remaining length to her bedroom. She walked into the bathroom and took down her hair. She bent over the sink and took of her make-up. All part of her nightly routine. She returned to her bedroom and took off her clothes exposing her undergarments. She crossed the room and went into the walk-in closet. She rummaged around and found her nightgown. She slipped into it and headed for bed. She turned out the light and went right to sleep. She had a big date tomorrow. 


	2. Chapter Two

Evan could hardly focus on his typewriter the next day. He knew his next installment was due to be written the next day, but Ophelia filled every thought of his mind. Was she thinking of him as well? He wasted countless hours away that seemed like centuries. His longing for her never ceasing. The harder he tried to concentrate, the less he did. He had gone to the café with her every night, but he never lost focus the way he did now. Could this be love? Obsession? How had she come to consume his entire being? He had only spoken with her for a few, brief moments. It was all a blur. Had it been a dream? It couldn't have been. But if it was, oh, what a fool he would make of himself. No, it wasn't. It had all been very real. His heart was screaming it happened, even if his head did not.  
Ophelia walked onto the stage as if nothing had happened. Yes, Evan's heart was right; however, she never let it enter her mind more than once. She crossed the stage and past the background. She turned into her dressing room and prepared for rehearsal. Ophelia had always dreamed of performing on the greatest stages in Europe, but she was left with this little stage house. She powdered her nose and returned to the stage. "Places everyone!" her director called. She took her place next to a girlfriend of hers. They knew it took their director several minutes to give any direction and went straight to talking. Evan's name, however, did not pop up at any time.  
Evan, though he did not know it, had a one-sided love. Ophelia had her eye on another man, whom she had known for nearly a year after performing plays with him at the playhouse-Eric. He, too, took great pride in his blonde hair. His acting experience was outnumbered and had performed on great stages throughout Europe; however, he always returned to the playhouse. Some say it was to show off. Yet others, including Ophelia, admiringly said it was simply the fact that everyone must return to the roots.  
The lower the sun hung in the sky, the higher Evan's heart rose. He couldn't bare the wait any longer. He dressed his finest and headed out for the café. He sang a French love song he had learned when he had first come to Paris. The moonlight shone over the dim streetlights full and bright. Younger passers-by walked together in couples. As he turned the corner, he saw her. Ophelia's beauty had somehow magnified in a single day to him. He rushed up to her no longer able to be without. He held out his arm and she gladly accepted it.  
They walked toward Paris's finest: the Eiffel Tower. Evan's nerves were at their highest. Sweat began to form at his upper brow and Ophelia broke the awkward silence. "Have you lived in Paris all your life?"  
"No. I arrived here a little over a year ago," he replied. "I wanted to study art and visit places like the Louvre. But above all, I wanted to find love. "  
"Well monsieur," she said, "I do believe you have come to the right place."  
"You're beautiful," Evan uttered words he could not help but say.  
"Stop, you're making me blush."  
"Oh, but you are. I don't know if it's the moonlight or the fact that this is Paris but I think I've found what I first came for."  
"Evan." Ophelia sighed. "There's no such thing as love."  
"What?" Evan never believed in anything the way he did love. "Love is what makes the world so great. Sure, it can end in heartbreak, but if it weren't for those bad times the good ones wouldn't be so great."  
"You're only having an infatuation," she replied.  
"Well then," he said, "are we both having an 'infatuation'?"  
"Perhaps."  
He laughed softly. The urge to kiss her was agonizing. But, alas, she had only said "perhaps". Should he do it? No. He simply continued with her along the dimly lit avenue.  
As they approached the Eiffel Tower, Evan made his way toward the steps of the staircase. Ophelia was puzzled and quickly pointed out the elevators. "Elevator?" Evan asked. "How can you ride an elevator and experience Paris, anything for that matter, the real way?"  
Ophelia bit her lip as he began running up the steps. I would never! she thought to herself. But there he goes. Should I join him? But the elevator is so much quicker.  
She sighed out loud and made her decision. She picked up the bottom of her dress and ran after him. "Evan!" she called. "Evan! Wait!" Ophelia, for that brief second, could not remember having so much fun. And just from climbing a staircase? She giggled. She regretted saying "perhaps." She knew she was having an infatuation. Was it more? Never! Love doesn't exist she reminded herself. She caught up to Evan and laughed at him as she passed. "Catch me if you can!" she called down.  
She reached the top and fell down laughing. Evan caught up to her, panting. He bent down and held out his hand. She put hers in his, a perfect fit, and he helped Ophelia to her feet. They held each other close. Evan once again had the awful urge to kiss her. But this time, Ophelia's intimidating eyes seemed to beg him to. He leaned in toward her; she did the same. Their lips touched lightly, then harder. And then, they lost themselves in the moonlight. Separated from time. Kissing. The French way.  
The night did not seem like it had ended. As Evan walked Ophelia to her door, he begged for God the night to restart itself. He had never been happier than the way he had been the past two evenings.  
"Good night mademoiselle," Evan suavely kissed her hand.  
Now Ophelia had the unbearable urge. She brought him closer and refused to ignore it. Ophelia unlocked the door at the same time and lead him in. She locked her door that night. 


	3. Chapter Three

Evan awoke the next morning in Ophelia's townhouse. He stretched his hand out, his eyes still closed, to find no one. He sat up. Ophelia had gone. His clothes were now neatly laid out on a chair opposed to hanging from the fan the way they had the night before. He ran down the stairs into the kitchen, still naked. No. She had gone. He went back upstairs and into her room. He slipped back into his clothes and fixed his matted hair.  
  
When he returned home, he saw his typewriter with a blank page still in it. He sat down and began typing. He still had Ophelia taking over his mind, but he could write. He could write about Ophelia. It was still better than nothing at all. As he typed, he missed her more. He thought of phoning, but then realized he had never gotten her number. How was he to see her again? He would visit the café again that night.  
  
Ophelia had gone to her rehearsal. She felt bad knowing she had left him there lying bare, but she had a life of her own to attend to. She saw Eric, and Evan completely vanished from her mind. Ophelia could not help but stare, so she went over to him and talked.  
  
"Bonjour monsieur," she greeted him.  
  
"Bonjour mademoiselle. I trust you had a pleasant evening."  
  
"Oui," she replied. "I had visited the Eiffel Tower."  
  
"Ah, a pleasant view. I probably could not find the time if they had not added those elevators, oui?"  
  
"Oui."  
  
"The director is coming, you better take your place."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Now she had an awkward feeling. Had Eric been shallow all this time? Was he really there to show off? No. She knew him better than that. She climbed stairs. How was that deep? Now Evan entered the picture, and the guilt of not leaving a note consumed her. She phoned home. No answer. He had left already. Why hadn't she gotten his number? How was she to contact him again? She would visit the café that night.  
  
Evan sat in his usual corner waiting for her. He sipped his coffee slowly waiting for her like he had done for a year. The past two evenings had come and go too quickly for his liking. He prayed for Ophelia to walk in. One hour passed. Two hours. Three hours. Finally, he had given up hope. He would just go home. But as soon as he arose, she walked in.  
  
"Ophelia," he whispered to himself. She smiled at him and walked over.  
  
"I had a feeling I'd find you here," she said.  
  
"Then we both had the same feeling."  
  
She giggled. He took her arm the way he had done the night before and they left together. They strolled along the streets talking and laughing for hours. She told him all about her dream to be a great actress; he told her about his career as a writer; she talked of her childhood in Paris; he talked of his childhood dream of Paris. They passed the windmill winds of the Moulin Rouge, the paintings and sculptures of the Louvre, finally they walked so far they came to the city limits of Paris.  
  
"What time is it?" Ophelia asked in wonderment.  
  
"Two o' clock in the morning," Evan replied.  
  
"This night went by too fast." she sighed.  
  
They had created their own world. Hours went like minutes. Where they went or how they got there neither knew nor cared. They turned around and made the five-hour walk toward home.  
  
"I'm lucky I don't have to rehearse tomorrow," she commented as they turned onto Evan's street.  
  
"And I work at home."  
  
"What's it like?" she asked.  
  
"What is what like?"  
  
"To be a writer. To have no rules or directions," she explained.  
  
"I'm not quite sure what you mean," he confessed.  
  
"Well then," she said, "I'll have to see for myself."  
  
He smirked and unlocked the apartment building's front door and led her in. She went toward the elevators.  
  
"What do I keep telling you?" he dragged Ophelia by her arm to the staircase. He leaned in and kissed her; moreover, they continued the entire flight of the stairs and were still kissing as he opened his door. It was Evan's turn to lock the door that night.  
  
Ophelia awoke the next morning afraid. Not from a bad dream, but from the realization that she was in love. She could not allow the relationship to continue. She left the security of his caressing arms and dressed; her clothes scattered about the floor; her brassiere on the bedpost. She walked to the door and as she left, she blew him one final kiss. 


	4. Chapter Four

Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks. Evan sat alone in his apartment. Why had she left? Not so much as a word. Had he done something offensive? She would not even talk to him on the phone. Evan had come to Paris for love and he found it. He was happy at last, and he had lost it all in a moment. Where did everything go wrong?  
  
It would never occur to Evan that everything went right.  
  
Three weeks after she had left Evan overnight, Ophelia had set her mind strictly on Eric. First, to occupy herself with other things. Eventually, Eric had become denial. If she convinced herself that she was completely over Evan, she would be fine.  
  
It was nothing she thought to herself. He was nothing! It was just another infatuation. Love doesn't exist anyways. And even if it did, what good what it do me?  
  
Eric approached her at rehearsal that day, "Bonjour mademoiselle."  
  
"Bonjour monsieur," Ophelia flashed a perfect smile as she greeted him.  
  
"I was wondering if you'd care to join me for dinner tonight?"  
  
"I don't know," she knew she wanted to. She was simply playing a game, "I think I'd be able to attend."  
  
"Wonderful," he said. "When should I pick you up?"  
  
She gave him her address and what time to pick her up. As he walked away, her face was devoid of the usual smirk she held. Ophelia knew in her heart she was doing the wrong thing. She knew she should be with Evan.  
  
Ophelia was devoid of her usual excitement as she prepared for her date that evening. She had finished putting everything in its exact place as Eric arrived. She gracefully walked down the hall and opened the door. She stepped out and Eric grasped her and kissed her hard on the lips. She forced a giggle from her mouth. She locked her door behind her and Eric led her to his car. The ride was silent as he pulled up to the Eiffel Tower.  
  
"I remember you saying that you enjoyed visiting it one evening," he explained.  
  
How ironic, she thought to herself just as I had forgotten him.  
  
Eric pushed the button for the elevator. "Wouldn't you like to climb the stairs? Get the full experience?" Ophelia was pleading. She knew her date was too shallow.  
  
"Never," he replied, "my feet wouldn't make it up two steps."  
  
The elevator dinged as it touched the ground, "Of course, how silly of me."  
  
That night lacked the magic she had with Evan times ten. Deep down, Ophelia knew it but refused to accept it in her head. She told herself it was silly to want to break up over a flight of stairs. She had always used elevators, why were they so dreary now? Her heart knew, but it was toned out by her mind.  
  
She returned to her house, and locked the door alone. She sat in her room without the lights on. Through the dark, she looked out the window. Ophelia was now convinced it was all boredom. She lay down on her bed, still fully clothed. A single tear rolled down her cheek: the first of many. That night, she cried herself to sleep.  
  
At the next rehearsal, Ophelia was greeted with a kiss from Eric. Partly from shock, partly from the lack of love she returned the kiss with her eyes opened. He whispered sweet-nothings into her ear until rehearsal began to start. It was their dress rehearsal. That night would be the opening night of their play. "Break-a-leg" seemed to fill the entire end of the dress rehearsal. Ophelia saw Eric approach her. Out of fear, she ran. She would simply tell him she didn't see him. She did not even stop to say good- bye as she left.  
  
Butterflies flew through everyone's stomachs as the curtain rose on the stage. The audience gradually got chillingly quiet. And the show began. Ophelia loved performing more than anything. The stage sent a rush through every part of her body. However, something was unsettling to her senses that night. Ophelia could never know, but Evan had come to see the show. He was in the last row in an aisle seat watching her every move.  
  
After the show, he went looking for her. From behind stage, Ophelia could see him glancing about. She quickly grabbed Eric and allowed him to take her out for the evening. He made witty jokes and casual comments that allowed Ophelia to tell her head that this was the man she wanted to marry. Eric took her to one of the best restaurants in town. He had obviously been there many times, for many admirers soon joined them. Ophelia wanted him to herself; so as a way to flirt without being public in front of so many strangers, she slipped on foot out of her shoe and began to play footsie with him. At first Eric thought it was slightly juvenile of her, but he could not help but smirk at her with pleasure and brought his foot out to do the same.  
  
After a half-an-hour, Eric finally got what she was trying to say. He took Ophelia by her hand and led her out. They laughed in seeming unison as they ran out into the starry night. Eric pressed against her and kissed lightly before running off with Ophelia to only-he-knew-where.  
  
Ophelia guffawed as they ran past the glaring passers-by. Eric slowed his pace and she found herself at the gates of a manor. He unlocked the padlocked gate and opened it. As he led Ophelia into the main hall, she found security. She had always had a taste for fine things that were found in great number here. The manor blew Evan's tiny apartment. The hall alone held famous paintings and a grand piano. Eric grabbed her hand caressingly again and led her up the stairs.  
  
Ophelia could see where this was going. She found herself in a flashback to her last night with Evan. He couldn't help but kiss her all the way up, unlike Eric who was loosely holding her hand. Normally she would not have thought about it, but she had changed. Evan had changed her. She was in love. No. There was no such thing as love. She needed security. Security that Eric, not Evan, could give her. So, she willingly allowed Eric to lock his door that night. 


	5. Chapter Five

Three weeks back, Evan sat alone in his apartment. He reached across the bed and found it empty. Ophelia had gone to work. No, she had said there were no rehearsals that day. Where had she gone? He phoned her at home. No answer. He went to the café. She never showed up.  
  
Maybe she will show up tomorrow he thought to himself.  
  
But she would not. Nor would she call. Evan thought of waiting outside her house. He began walking toward the townhouse when he realized he did not want to stalk the woman. Was she breaking it off with him? Was this all to avoid a hurtful breakup? No. They had had a wonderful time together.  
  
As the third day came, he passed her house to make sure she was still alive. She was very much alive. She was off to rehearsal. Rehearsal! That was it! Evan knew in less than three weeks Ophelia's show began. He would go to her on opening night. She could never refuse him then.  
  
For nearly three weeks, Evan sat at his typewriter thinking of her. Anything he put on paper had something to do with Ophelia. He still could not stop thinking. He hoped he would not have to attend uninvited. He prayed to God she would phone him. She would not. His near three weeks ended and he found himself in the back row of the playhouse.  
  
Evan paid no attention to what was happening on stage. He could only see Ophelia. She glanced toward his direction. She always knows when I'm staring he thought. The curtain dropped on the play and he applauded with the rest of the audience. Unlike the audience, he went stayed after the applause. He glanced every way looking for his beloved. After fifteen minutes, he found her. He found Ophelia in the arms of another man.  
  
She had left him! Those nights meant nothing to her and now she meant nothing to him. Evan left the playhouse alone. Ophelia could prove that he meant nothing to her. That much was obvious; but he would be suspected to be alone and miserable. Then he saw it. A sign saying:  
  
Writers Wanted  
  
That was it. He would go to rehearsals as a writer, perhaps with other women. This was how he would prove he was fine. But was it really moving on? Was it just an attempt to make her jealous? 


	6. Chapter Six

A week later, Ophelia found herself at auditions for the next play. As she thumbed through the new script, Eric approached her.  
  
"My dear," he said, "what are you doing reading the script? You don't need to audition."  
  
"What?" Ophelia was completely puzzled by this.  
  
"I've secured the two lead roles for you and I already," he explained.  
  
"But I always get my own leads."  
  
"So? It's still the same, except this time you don't have to audition."  
  
"I suppose so."  
  
"And with a new writer, you risk not getting any roles at all."  
  
"New writer?"  
  
"Yes, new writer, Evan something or other. A nothing. He would not know talent if it hit him with a plunger. And since the writers always cast the roles, it will be better this way."  
  
"Evan?"  
  
"Yes," he said, "what's the matter?  
  
"Nothing." Ophelia lied. "It's nothing."  
  
As Evan casted his actors and actresses, Ophelia ran off to the park with Eric. Did she really want to be here? Or would she rather be with Evan? No, she was with her future husband. That was all that mattered to her.  
  
"You know," Eric broke an awkward silence, "there's a week between auditions and the start of rehearsals. And I will be traveling to New York for an interview. I was wondering if you'd might like to join me."  
  
"Of course," she replied. "Wherever you go, I go."  
  
And so Ophelia found herself at an airport no more than two days later. She held onto her handbag waiting for Eric to return with the tickets. She was going to New York. The Metropolitan Museum. The Statue of Liberty. Ellis Island. She could hardly stand the wait.  
  
Eric approached her with two tickets in hand. His hair was in perfect order and his teeth were perfectly white. Neither a strand nor speck was out of place. Three tickets? Why were there tickets in his hand?  
  
"Are you ready?" he asked. Eric grabbed her waist and thrusted his body against hers and kissed her madly.  
  
"Yes." she could hardly talk, "but why do you have three tickets?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why do you have three tickets? There are only two of us."  
  
"So we can have the row to ourselves," he explained.  
  
"I guess that makes sense."  
  
See how smart he is? she thought. Evan wouldn't even be able to afford an extra seat.  
  
As the plane taxied, Eric filled his tray with alcoholic beverages. He had a fear of flying. He was soon in a deep drunk coma. So, Ophelia sat alone by the window with nothing to do.  
  
The next morning, Ophelia awoke naked in the hotel room. She reached out across the bed. Eric was missing. Where was he? She found a note. He had gone to his interview already. She prepared herself for the day and stepped out onto the busy New York streets. Ophelia decided to visit the Statue of Liberty, after all it was a gift from France.  
  
Meanwhile, back in Paris, Evan sat busy at his typewriter. He no longer had Ophelia on his mind and found it easy to write a playwright. With the additional help of Amelia, the idea soon became a script.  
  
"Monsieur?" Amelia looked up from her copy.  
  
"Oui mademoiselle?"  
  
"I was wondering if you'd care to join me for dinner?"  
  
"Dinner?" Evan was slightly taken aback, "Uh .I suppose I could do that."  
  
"When will you pick me up?"  
  
Evan wasn't quite sure what was happening, "Eight o' clock?"  
  
"Eight o' clock it is."  
  
She handed him the script with a note attached to it. Her address. She blew him a kiss and walked out the door. What had just happened? Did he have a date for the night? Sure, Evan had gotten along with Amelia, but why had he agreed to a date? Possibly Amelia was the one thing that could take Evan's mind off of Ophelia.  
  
As Ophelia came to the base of the statue, she was faced with a set of stairs and an elevator. Evan's voice rattled through her brain "How can you ride an elevator and experience Paris, anything for that matter, the real way?" Eric's soon replaced it. "My feet wouldn't make it up two steps." She smirked. She knew what she wanted to do. Ophelia put her foot on the bottom stair and started climbing. 


	7. Chapter Seven

As Ophelia was reaching the landing of the Statue of Liberty, Evan prepared for his date. He had been able to write the entire time after Amelia left, a mammoth change from his date with Ophelia. He walked to the address Amelia had given him and rapped on the door.  
  
Amelia stood in the doorway with light streaming into the cold night. Her lean body was wrapped tightly by a red dress. Her long blonde hair was put up so neatly that if a single hair was out of place, it would appear that it was supposed to look that way. Her green eyes sparkled in the moonlight. "Shall we monsieur?"  
  
Evan gingerly took her hand and they began down the street. They stopped at a restaurant for food and talked for countless hours. As they finished, Evan brought Amelia to his favorite part of the park that night. A huge fountain took up most of the space. He sat her beside him.  
  
"Hold me in your arms," Amelia put herself in his lap and put his arms around her.  
  
"I take it you had a good time tonight?" Evan felt slightly awkward holding her.  
  
"Very good time." she let out a sigh of comfort.  
  
He lowered his face to look at Amelia. She looked up. Apparently, she thought this was an attempt at kissing her and she pressed hard against his mouth.  
  
Eric stormed into the hotel furious. Obviously, his interview had not gone well. "What's wrong dear?" Ophelia rose from the bed to cheer up her disappointed man.  
  
"They thought I was over-qualified." he admitted.  
  
"You and I both know that's just a term people use when they know you're better than them," she nibbled on his ear. "Now why don't you come with me, and I'll help you forget all about that nasty interview."  
  
The "Do Not Disturb" sign hung from their doorknob that night.  
  
Evan woke up guilty. Why had he let her in last night? He opened his eyes and saw Amelia at the typewriter. He got up and went over to her, still naked. She greeted him. He massaged her shoulders and kissed her neck and collarbone. "What are you working on?"  
  
"The script silly," she continued typing.  
  
"How much longer do we have to write that thing?"  
  
"Don't knock it," she said. "It gives us an extra excuse to see each other."  
  
"Excuses?" he asked. "Why do we need an excuse?"  
  
"Good point," Amelia looked up at Evan and kissed him.  
  
The remaining week passed quickly for Ophelia. While Evan and Amelia had been writing, she had visited Ellis Island, the Metropolitan Museum, Central Park, the Empire State Building, and many more places. Before she knew it she was on the plane back to Paris. Eric in his drunken coma. She thought back to Evan. What was he doing right now?  
  
Evan was at Amelia's house celebrating the completion of the script. If they could find the completed script underneath the strewn clothes across the floor. Tomorrow they would be rehearsing for the new play. And as Evan held Amelia in his arms naked hours later, he realized his fear of having to see Ophelia. Would he have the strength to look her in the eyes? Yes. He had Amelia and she had Eric. They had both moved on. He kissed Amelia on the forehead. He had found his one-and-only. His head said Amelia, but if he had listened to his heart he would've have heard the undying scream for Ophelia. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Ophelia spotted Evan at the playhouse that day. She rushed up to him. This obsession had to end! "What are you doing here?!"  
  
"I'm the new writer."  
  
"Yes! I know that!" she screamed. "But why are you here? Are you stalking me cause I never called back?"  
  
Amelia approached them, "Evan, dear. Who's this?"  
  
He shrugged, "Just an old friend."  
  
"Old friend?" Ophelia was insulted. "We were dating briefly. He was madly in love with me. I'd even say I was his obsession."  
  
Ophelia walked away smirking. She had said it out of pure malice. Flattery to herself mostly.  
  
"Obsession?" Amelia asked.  
  
"She just likes to flatter herself," he explained. "Let's get this started."  
  
The rehearsal began and Evan knew he had moved on. He had seen Ophelia as this picture perfect women, who was truly bitter and cruel. He had Amelia now. He didn't need, nor did he want, anyone else. Yet, he couldn't help but look over at Ophelia every now and then. What was the matter with him?  
  
Evan saw neither Amelia nor Ophelia that evening. He worked busily at his typewrite correcting the script for the next rehearsal. He looked out the window at the busy streets. He had come to Paris for love, and he had found only arising problems. He couldn't focus on his work in the apartment and went for a walk. Evan did not care where he went. He let his feet take him where they would. To his surprise, he found himself outside the café where he had first me Ophelia.  
  
"Excuse moi moussier, but I could not help notice you were staring at me. Is there something the matter? Food in my teeth?"  
  
"Yes. I mean no! No! You're.you're beautiful,"  
  
Where had the time gone? It seemed like yesterday he had first spoken to her. He went inside the café and went to his usual corner. She walked in. Was it all fate? Was it a coincidence? Irony?  
  
She crossed the room to his table, "Evan, are you ever not here?"  
  
He smiled, "Only when you're not."  
  
"Well then," she smiled, "I have to apologize."  
  
"Oui?"  
  
"Oui. I shouldn't have said that to Amelia. It's been bothering me all afternoon."  
  
"Well, you said what you wanted to. And I supposed I forgive you. Now, go have your coffee."  
  
"You don't understand. I.I want us to be friends. It's not fair it all ends like this."  
  
"Friends? You left me alone and naked without even so much as a goodbye."  
  
"I was afraid."  
  
"Of what? Love?"  
  
"No.yes.I don't know. The point is you have Amelia now and I have Eric, and I think we should at least try to be friends. I did enjoy our conversations."  
  
"You're one of the few people I felt normal with," he laughed. "I remember being such an odd-man-out back home. I was obsessed with this city and finding love. I would've given anything to have been normal then."  
  
"Normal? What do you mean? Petty and dishonest?"  
  
"Not everyone's like that."  
  
"Yes they are."  
  
"You're not like that. You were the one person who could make feel I wasn't alone in this world."  
  
"Sometimes it's better to be alone." she sighed. "You can't get hurt when you're alone."  
  
"I never would have done anything to hurt you."  
  
"And I didn't want to.that's why I just ended it there."  
  
Evan sighed and Ophelia looked into his eyes, "You don't love me anymore do you?"  
  
"I.I don't know." he confessed. "This is all just slightly weird for me I guess."  
  
They talked for countless more hours. Amelia and Eric had completely left their minds. Ophelia and Evan were lost in their own world. After four hours and ten cups of coffee, the café was closing. Evan walked Ophelia back to her house.  
  
"Good night monsieur."  
  
"Good night."  
  
Evan wanted to reach out and kiss her uncontrollably. Somehow, he restrained himself. He had Amelia. She had Eric. They could only be friends now. Evan let out a sigh as she shut her door and walked home through the cold night. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Ophelia leaned against the door regretting the entire evening. She slowly paced herself to the staircase and she began to cry. She sobbed the whole way up the stairs and to her bed. She cried herself to sleep, still fully clothed.  
  
Ophelia screamed when she woke up the next morning. Eric had been hovering above her. She realized who was and began panting. As she had finally caught her breath, she spoke up, "Wha.wha.what time is it?"  
  
"Ten o' clock," he replied. "You're missing rehearsal. The director sent me to check on you."  
  
Ophelia groaned and buried her head in her hands. She rushed into the bathroom and began removing the makeup she had forgotten to take off the night before.  
  
"Dear." Eric began, "why are you still fully clothed?"  
  
"I took a sleeping pill," she lied. "It put me out like a light."  
  
Ophelia barely had the time to shower. By the time she had arrived at the playhouse, the actors had taken their lunch break. She glanced around. Where was Eric? Maybe he was backstage. No. She looked out from behind the curtain. Evan. Amelia. The director. The cast. Where was Eric?  
  
Since she couldn't find Eric, Ophelia decided to join Evan and Amelia, "Bonjour."  
  
"Bonjour," Amelia smiled.  
  
"I can't find Eric and I was wondering if you'd mind if I joined you?"  
  
"Not at all," Amelia said as she pulled up an extra chair.  
  
"Merci. I hope there are no hard feelings from earlier. I was a bit cranky from being out so late last night."  
  
"Of course not," Amelia smiled feebly as she accepted the apology. "Out late, you said? Not to be rude, but why were you out so late?"  
  
"I was with," she glanced at Evan and back to Amelia, "a friend at a little café. We talked for hours without realizing it. We had a little 'tiff' and we were making up."  
  
"You seem to make up quite a lot," Amelia guffawed at her joke as Evan hung his head from the unintended rudeness.  
  
"I suppose I do." Ophelia replied sheepishly.  
  
They continued on with their lunches until the director called for places. Evan and Amelia had already passed out scripts and Ophelia had to catch up on what had happened in a short amount of time. Finally, Eric arrived back at the playhouse. He took his stance and the rehearsal resumed. After they were dismissed for the evening, Ophelia ran to Eric.  
  
"Pigeon, where were you? I looked everywhere."  
  
"Oh," he stuttered, "I was j-j-just g-g-getting lunch at a c-c-café."  
  
"Is something the matter?"  
  
"Just a little.little out of breath from the.the dancing, that's all."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive."  
  
"Good, then you can join me for a little supper."  
  
Evan took Ophelia's arm and walked her out into the sunset of Paris. The streets were crowded with mothers and fathers returning home from work. They rushed into a little café and sat down.  
  
"Dear," Ophelia was quite puzzled, "you seem a little tense."  
  
"I must have a pulled a muscle," he rubbed his shoulder and continued looking at the menu.  
  
"I know this is silly of me.but I feel like you're hiding something from me."  
  
"Hiding something?" she finally had gotten his attention.  
  
"Yes," she began worrying she was correct. "Who did you meet at the café?"  
  
"No one," he tried to keep eye contact at a possible low. "I ate alone."  
  
"Was there a woman?"  
  
"Not at first."  
  
"Elaborate."  
  
"She's just an old friend that I ran into," he explained. "I did intend on eating alone. Besides, it's not like we're that serious. Are we?"  
  
"No, I suppose not," she said. "We only slept together!"  
  
"Good, you do see it my way."  
  
"You pig!" she screamed as she stood up. "I was being sarcastic!"  
  
"I-I-I was too!" he was greatly scared of Ophelia by this point. "Dear, just sit down. L-l-l-let's talk about this."  
  
"Start talking," Ophelia slowly and reluctantly sat down.  
  
"We ate lunch together," he began, "that's it! I swear! Nothing happened. Just lunch between two friend, what's wrong with that?"  
  
"Nothing," she replied. "When you don't have to have a shoe up your ass to tell the truth."  
  
"I just thought you'd take it the wrong way, quite like what you're doing now."  
  
"You don't know me at all!" With that Ophelia stormed out of the café in an angry rage.  
  
As she rushed down the sidewalk, she began to slow down and cry. She saw Evan and Amelia holding each other close as they walked down the streets. For some reason, Ophelia began to cry more. She ducked into an ally. Maybe they hadn't seen her.  
  
Earlier that day, Evan had had a strange feeling. "A friend?" What was that supposed to mean? Was she embarrassed that she had spent a night talking to him? Embarrassed of their friendship? Or was it that she was afraid what Amelia might think? Perhaps that was it. He sat and stared as Amelia and she conversed. They seemed to get along just splendidly. Apparently, he was meant to be with Amelia. But for some reason, he couldn't stop staring into Ophelia's eyes. She was beautiful. Beauty? It was an infatuation. He had never loved her. He had only thought she was pretty. Or was it?  
  
Evan's head was filled with so much doubt; he was barely sure of what his name was. Could he walk to the limits of Paris with Amelia? He had plans with Amelia that night. He would find out then. If he could get lost in a different world with her, Ophelia had just been an infatuation. But did he want Ophelia to be an infatuation? He loved her. He knew it in his heart, but his head refused to admit to it. What was real to him?  
  
When the lunch break had ended, Evan could not focus on any of his work. He wanted to shut out what had happened those two nights, but he had filled himself with doubt. He let Amelia do the focusing and chose a corner in the back. He began to write. Nothing in it had anything to do with the play. It was something for his eyes only. If anyone ever saw it, he'd face public humiliation.  
  
As the rehearsal dragged on, he continued to write. He didn't stop until it had ended. As Amelia walked over, he stuffed it into his script where it couldn't be seen.  
  
"You've been awfully distant today," she said.  
  
"I'm sorry," he replied. "I guess I've just been stressed with the play and everything."  
  
"It's the first rehearsal," Amelia pointed out.  
  
"The first of many."  
  
"Well, let's just go have a good time and get your mind off all this nonsense."  
  
The night seemed to drag on. Evan had concentrated so much on getting lost with Amelia, he had couldn't even focus on her. As they approached a small café, they saw Ophelia running into an ally crying.  
  
"We should go see what is wrong, no?" Ophelia asked.  
  
They crossed the street and followed her into the ally, "Ophelia?"  
  
She was pushed up against the wall trying to hide from them. She opened one eye, "Holy mother of Jesus."  
  
"Is some the matter?" he asked.  
  
"I didn't want you to see me," she confessed. "Eric and I quarreled."  
  
"Oh you poor dear," Amelia pulled out a handkerchief as she tried her best to be consoling.  
  
Ophelia accepted the handkerchief, "He was with another woman at lunch and then he lied about it. He said it was nothing. I told him it wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't needed to shove my heel up his ass to tell the truth."  
  
"Aw, don't cry," Amelia seemed to find comforting an easy thing to do. "You go home and eat all the ice cream you want. Best to replace men."  
  
Ophelia sniffed one last sniff and smiled, "Okay. Thank you for putting up with such a big baby."  
  
"Men are pigs, you're not a baby."  
  
They said their goodbyes and Ophelia walked home. Evan was astounded, "Ever thought of going into therapy?"  
  
"I'm writer too, Evan," she began, "I know what people like to hear."  
  
Evan bit his lip. She had never said something as shallow as that. He was impressed for a moment, but the feeling had been quickly replaced with uncertainty. They still had a chance. He had all of Paris for her to change her shallow ways. For, even Ophelia had to change for him to.No! He never loved her! Or had he? Had she? 


	10. Chapter Ten

Ophelia walked alone into her townhouse. She had just settled herself on the living room sofa when there was a knock at the door. Eric. She knew who it was. Should she let him come in? No, she really shouldn't, but she had to guilty a conscience to let that happen. She opened the door and it was Eric. Big surprise she thought. He was there with his dashing smile, a single lock of blonde hair in his face, and holding a bouquet of flowers.  
  
"Please don't run away this time," he begged.  
  
"You really can't take a hint, can you?"  
  
"Ophelia, darling," Eric was beginning to look desperate, "I love you. What does it matter who I eat lunch with?"  
  
"Wait." she had only heard part of the sentence. "You love me?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, "don't you love me?"  
  
"I need some rest," she couldn't say those three words if her life depended on it. "I-I-I'll call you in the morning."  
  
"Well, here then," he handed her the flowers. "Those are for you."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Good night?"  
  
"Good night."  
  
Eric walked away cold and lonely. He had tried his hardest to make up, but Ophelia had gotten so shaky when he said he loved her. Most women went weak in the knees when he said that, but he had never truly loved them. Did he really love her? Eric was as confused as Evan or Ophelia that night.  
  
"I think I could cry right now." he whispered to himself.  
  
Ophelia leaned against the closed door smelling her flowers. She had left Evan to avoid falling in love and now she was doing it all over again. Or was she? Did she just make Eric love her when she truly wanted Evan all along? Ophelia's mind ran wild with thoughts. She walked slowly to the kitchen and put the flowers in a vase of water. The more she thought of the night's happenings, the more her head began to hurt. She took a Tylenol and climbed the staircase to bed. She was mentally drained. She was awake enough to remember her make up this time. She didn't want a repeat of the night before. She looked up into the mirror. Ophelia looked pathetic. As she climbed into bed, her eyes began to water. Ophelia, again, cried herself to sleep.  
  
As Ophelia was shutting the door, Evan was walking Amelia to her door. No, he hadn't made it to the outreaches of Paris. Amelia had kept an eye on her watch the entire night.  
  
"Evan," she said, "you seemed a little distant tonight."  
  
"I did?"  
  
"At first, you just seem preoccupied," she began, "but after we ran into Ophelia you just got downright lost in thought."  
  
"I'm sorry." Evan knew deep down he had been, and his apologies weren't as sincere as he had intended.  
  
"Evan," she stopped and turned to him, "I don't think you love me. Just please tell me I'm wrong."  
  
"You're wrong," Evan's heart told him he was lying. "I'm just stressed out with knowing what we're about to go through with this play. And then we run into our lead actress and she's having a fucking mental breakdown."  
  
"I know," Amelia replied. "I know, but we have each other. Now why don't you come upstairs and I'll relax you."  
  
Evan smirked, "Alright."  
  
Ophelia rolled out of bed with an aching headache. She groaned the entire way to the bathroom. She looked into the mirror. Ophelia was not feeling well, and she knew it. She bathed and dressed, however, and took the bottle of Tylenol with her to the playhouse.  
  
Evan awoke early. He held Amelia in his arms close to his body. He kissed her on the neck and forehead and laid his head upon hers. His mind raced back to what was in stashed inside his script. If anyone found, especially Amelia, he'd be done for. He regretted ever writing it. He would show it to a select few just for the reviews to see how his skills had improved, and then he would burn it. Evan could no longer bare the thought of it. He kissed Amelia on her forehead once more and got out of bed.  
  
Evan picked up his clothes off the floor and changed as Amelia began to stir, "Hey honey. What's the rush?"  
  
"I just remembered something," he replied. "I have to go immediately."  
  
"What is it?" she sat up as curiosity took over her.  
  
"It's nothing," he replied. "It's nothing."  
  
"Alright, well I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," Evan leaned over and kissed her. "I'll see you at rehearsal!"  
  
Evan slammed the door shut before Amelia could even speak, "Goodbye."  
  
Evan ran down the streets to his little apartment. He ran up the staircase and burst open the door. His script laid next to his typewriter. He snatched it up. He knew it was inside the script, but Evan had an irresistible urge to check just in case. Yes, it was still there. He smiled at his own randomness to double-check something he knew of already.  
  
As he walked into the playhouse, he looked for Amelia. No sign of her. Good. He took another look around. Ellen! He dashed up to her.  
  
Ellen was a tall, slender, and beautiful woman. Her long flowing golden locks fell to her chest. Her eyes were blue and luring. Her face full. She was beautiful without make-up, more so with.  
  
"Ellen," he said. "I have something for you to read."  
  
"Oh, good morning Monsieur Evan," she greeted him.  
  
"I'm dreadfully sorry for my rudeness, good morning."  
  
Ellen giggled, "Quite all right. Now, what do you have for me today?"  
  
"This," he handed her a lengthy letter.  
  
She sat and read for a while and when she finished she was nearly teary- eyed, "It's lovely! If a man gave this to me, I'd be weak in the knees. It's for Amelia, no?"  
  
"No." he confessed.  
  
"Do you still fancy that Ophelia woman?"  
  
"Oui." his confessions were beginning to sound like obsessions.  
  
"Hm." Ellen sighed. "I wish I knew what to say, but I truly don't. Are you going to give it to her?"  
  
"Never!" he screamed. "You saw what happened when I got the job as the writer here, she'd flip out again!"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"I'm going to burn this," he decided. "I just wanted to know what you thought of it."  
  
"Because I'm your best friend or because you just wanted to know you need to give it to her?"  
  
"Both?"  
  
"Not an answer."  
  
"Then I choose because you're my best friend."  
  
Ellen sighed, "Fine. Have it your way. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to go visit the powder room."  
  
A voice came from behind him, "You know, if I were the jealous type I'd say you two had something going on."  
  
It was Amelia, "You know she's my best friend."  
  
"Yes, I know," she replied. "That's why I said 'if.'"  
  
Evan smiled. He took Amelia by her arm and they began the rehearsal. If it was long and treacherous enough for the cast, it was the same for the poor writers. Hours went by. After the director began to get restless, he dismissed them early.  
  
"Thank God," Amelia declared. "If any rehearsal goes like this again, I'll kill myself."  
  
"Please don't," Evan took her in his arms and kissed her.  
  
Ophelia had a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach as she saw them kiss. She looked down at the ground and back up to Eric. She felt guilty about shutting him out the night before. "Eric!" she called.  
  
She rushed up to him, "Eric...I'm sorry about last night."  
  
"It's okay," he assured her. "I completely understand."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Totally."  
  
"Thank you, I was just being jealous," she reached up and kissed him and the feeling consumed her stomach again. What was bothering her? 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Ellen ran up to Evan and began sliding across the floor when she caught up to him, "Monsieur, if you could spare a moment?"  
  
"Amelia, darling, do you mind?" he asked.  
  
"No, I suppose not." she said. "I told you I was not the jealous type, no?"  
  
"Thank you for understanding," Evan leaned over and kissed her on the forehead before following Ellen.  
  
"Evan." Ellen sighed as he caught up with her. "How can you lead the poor girl on like that?"  
  
"I don't know what you mean."  
  
"You write a love letter for Ophelia and you mean to tell me you still love Amelia?"  
  
"I've moved on," he replied. "That letter was just for a bit of fun."  
  
"Are you sure about that?"  
  
"Yes!" Ellen looked deep into his eyes; she could tell he was lying. "No.I suppose not."  
  
"Then break it off with Amelia before you hurt her."  
  
"But if I'm not sure, how can I be sure I'll hurt her? Shouldn't I wait till I know?"  
  
"Well.perhaps. But you better figure this out quick!"  
  
"I know.I know."  
  
"Alright then, phone me when you get home."  
  
"I will."  
  
Evan took Amelia back in his arm. He regretted having that last conversation. His head and heart were in a furious battle. Which would win? Which would decide? Would his heart lead him the right way? Or should he use his head and try to figure out his own way?  
  
Ophelia bit her lip as she walked out of the playhouse. She was looking around for.something. What was it that she was looking for? She, herself, did not know. Although she was blind to it, she wanted Evan. She wanted to be with him every single moment. She dug deeper into Eric's embrace. What was going on in her heart?  
  
"I do love Amelia," Evan had been on the phone with Ellen for hours.  
  
"Then why did you right that poem for Ophelia?"  
  
"I-I-I don't know! I must have just been feeling guilty about not telling Amelia about the night before."  
  
"And why didn't you tell her?"  
  
"I told you! I don't know!"  
  
"It's because you love Ophelia! Admit it to yourself and don't break the poor girl's heart!"  
  
"Like I would do that after."  
  
"I know you wouldn't, but you might. Please break it off now," Ellen was begging him to leave Amelia by this point.  
  
"I have to go now, Ellen. I have a date with Amelia. Goodbye"  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
Sorry this one is so short, but I'm leaving for a week and I figured I should post one last chapter before I left! 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Evan grabbed his coat and left for the evening. It was strangely cold that night. As he reached Amelia's house, Ellen words came rushing back to him. They had fought over this for hours. Hurt Amelia? He could never do that. Especially not after what had happened to him. He knocked on the door.  
  
"Bonjour," Amelia was wearing a green dress similar to the one she had worn on their first date.  
  
"Bonjour," Evan flashed a smile. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Oui."  
  
He took Amelia's hand and they began to walk toward the theater, the biggest one in Paris, to see a presentation of London's Chicago.  
  
During the musical, Amelia thoroughly enjoyed herself. However, while six women performed Cell Block Tango, Evan could only hear Ellen's voice in his head. Amelia stroke his hand, and Evan shifted seat. He shut his eyes and let out a sigh. Evan knew what he had to do.  
  
Chicago came to an end and the audience roared with applause, but Evan could only slump in his seat. What I have to do next he though to himself will be the hardest thing I ever do.  
  
The walk back to Amelia's house was a quiet one. Evan hung his head below his shoulders, his hands dug deep into his pockets.  
  
Amelia unlocked her door her voice nearly inaudible, "Good night."  
  
Evan walked through the moonlit streets cold and lonely. He had wanted to break it off at Amelia's door, but his nerves had gotten the best of him. Evan walked, to clear his mind, away from his apartment. Before he knew otherwise, Evan found himself outside Ophelia's townhouse.  
  
Only one light was on in the house. He stared through the window wondering what she was doing that moment. Evan regretted letting his nerves get the best of him. He blinked for a split second; when he reopened his eyes, Ophelia was staring down at him.  
  
How many times can I get caught staring?!  
  
Ophelia disappeared from sight momentarily and reappeared at the door, "Evan.what are you doing here?"  
  
"I honestly don't know," he replied. "I don't even remember walking here."  
  
"Well, I was thinking of taking a walk. Care to join me?"  
  
"Why not."  
  
As they walked away, they could tell each other anything and finally Ophelia brought up a subject Evan often avoided, "You must have had had some heartbreak?"  
  
"Well.yes," he admitted.  
  
Everyone has something they hide in the past, including Evan. Before he had come to Paris, he had fallen in love with a woman named Karen.  
  
Karen was not the most beautiful woman, but she was perfect to him. She was short, only about five foot. Her blonde hair had potential, but she often just left it down. Her blue eyes were her best feature, and Evan often got lost staring into them.  
  
However, Karen had had alternate motives. She had found Evan attractive, yes, but she had fallen in love with his best friend: Shaun. Shaun had always focused on his schoolwork. His dirty blonde hair and pale complexion did not give off the most handsome appeal; yet, Shaun somehow obtained girlfriends seemingly effortless. Evan had often found reasons to be jealous of him, but now he had Karen. If only he had known.  
  
When Evan had left his home, Karen and Shaun were together. After three months of seeming bliss, Evan had caught them in bed together. He was mad with jealousy and had done things he was not proud of. His main focus for two years had been breaking them apart. Evan wished none of it had ever happened.  
  
After realizing his mistake, Evan flew into three months of despair. He stopped eating. He cried himself to sleep every night. However, strength did return to him.  
  
"And that was when I decided to come here," he finished.  
  
"Such a sad story."  
  
"Yes, and not many people know it."  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Ophelia replied mysteriously.  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"The play you wrote," she explained. "It reminds me of your story."  
  
"Well, I suppose writers do write what they know."  
  
Ophelia began to giggle, "Look where we are."  
  
Evan's gaze followed Ophelia's finger up the street. They had walked to the café where their unknown magic had started.  
  
"While we're here?"  
  
Evan's eyes met Ophelia's and somehow an entire conversation took place that had never passed. With it, the decision to enter had also come.  
  
As they entered, Evan headed toward his usual corner. Ophelia let out a sigh as she watched him sit. "Must you always seclude yourself?" she pulled out a chair for herself.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Please, I saw you scribbling away in your notebook, in a corner I might add, during rehearsal the other day."  
  
"I suppose you do have a point," Evan succumbed.  
  
"What were you writing?" Ophelia became more curious.  
  
As her curiosity grew, Evan became more nervous, "Oh.nothing."  
  
"You're lying?"  
  
"No, no! It was just boring play stuff! I.I swear."  
  
"I see."  
  
After hours more of talking, Ophelia and Evan once again say closing time at the little café.  
  
"You know," Evan sigh, "I'd seen you hundreds of times in the café before I even knew your name. I never thought I'd be kicked out of there after talking to you for so long."  
  
Ophelia smiled. Evan always knew the right thing to say, why couldn't Eric be more poetic? Why would she even think such a thing? But perhaps the best question was, why was she with Evan this late at night?  
  
"I should go," Ophelia wanted the night to end.  
  
"Should I walk you home?"  
  
"No, that's quite alright. Thank you though."  
  
Ophelia was practically sprinting as she left Evan. As she opened her door, tears stained her cheeks. Ophelia was tired of crying. She was tired of everything.  
  
She stumbled into bed while she gasped for breath in between sobs. Ophelia didn't want to cry herself to sleep another night. Tomorrow she would break it off. Ophelia closed her eyes and she her last tear for the night.  
  
As Ophelia sprinted down the sidewalk, Evan was left alone by the café. The night's events had only convinced him more that he and Amelia were not right for each other. Although, this decision had also confused Evan further. If neither Amelia nor Ophelia was his one true love, who was?  
  
He opened the door to his tiny apartment and the light on his answer machine was blinking. He pressed the button.  
  
It was Amelia, "Hey, where have you been all night? Look, I feel like such a bitch for doing this on your answer machine, but I think we should see other people. You don't have to call me back; I don't think you want one of those awkward conversations. Goodbye Evan, I really did love you."  
  
As the answer machine cut off Evan began to guffaw. He had walked around for hours trying to decide if they should break up and there it was-on his answer machine!  
  
Evan plopped down on his bed still laughing. He let out a sigh. Evan was somewhat relieved he didn't have to do it but now what to do? Tell Ophelia the truth? Never! She was nearly running away from him just moments ago.  
  
Evan shut his eyes, let out one last giggle, and slowly drifted to sleep.  
  
Ophelia groaned as she looked into the mirror. She looked pathetic once again. Ophelia was tired of that, too. The phone rang.  
  
Ophelia rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. She was gasping for breath as she picked up the receiver, "Hello?"  
  
"Morning cherub!"  
  
"Eric," she sighed. "We need to talk."  
  
"You're dumping me aren't you?"  
  
"Well.yes."  
  
"I thought so.Well, see you at rehearsal!"  
  
The line went dead, "That jerk!"  
  
Ophelia slammed the phone down. She was furious as she huffed up the stairs.  
  
Evan also awoke to a phone call. It was Ellen, "I'm so sorry!"  
  
"Don't be," Evan was fine with the whole matter.  
  
"You want me to make you a breakup CD?" she offered.  
  
"No," he let out a small laugh. "That's okay."  
  
"If you're sure you're alright, I'll see you at rehearsal."  
  
"Alright, bye bye."  
  
The line went dead and Evan let out a sigh. Rehearsal: he'd have to face Amelia. Perhaps they could be friends?  
  
Evan realized that was not going to happen as rehearsal began. Amelia could barely say two words, let alone be friends with him.  
  
Ophelia gritted her teeth every time she saw Eric. She had broken up with him, but Ophelia had somehow been angered that Eric got the last shot-even if he hadn't meant to. She looked to Evan. For some reason, he and Amelia seemed to be at odds.  
  
Ophelia pulled Evan to the side, "Is there the something the matter with you and Amelia?"  
  
"Well, she did dump me," he confessed.  
  
"What?" Ophelia was shocked.  
  
"Over the answer machine."  
  
"I'll kill her! This is just like her!"  
  
"You hardly know her," he pointed out.  
  
"So what?!"  
  
"Besides, I'm fine with it."  
  
"I'll still kill her!"  
  
Evan giggled, "There's no need for that!"  
  
And so, weeks went on of Ophelia gritting her teeth and Evan trying to ignore Amelia; moreover, the two found themselves talking late into the night. Evan loved her and he had to conceal it. The pain of not being able to tell her was agonizing. Ophelia had her own problems as well.  
  
Ophelia had left Eric and her guilt behind, but he mind would still run rampant with thoughts. She wanted to decide once and for all if she loved Evan, but the question remained unanswered. After all, she could hardly tell if Evan loved her.  
  
As rehearsal went on, Evan befriended a woman by the name of Jade. She had long flowing dirty-blonde hair and dark mysterious eyes. Many a man courted the beauty.  
  
She was witty, too, which highly impressed Evan. Flirting had become a common past time before and after rehearsal. However, the flirting seemed to be misleading to Evan. He loved Ophelia, and he didn't want Jade to think otherwise; but, as he ate lunch with her one day, he realized he might have.  
  
"So, I heard you and Amelia have been split up awhile."  
  
"Yes," he replied. "A few weeks."  
  
"Well, now that she's out of the picture, would you go out with me sometime?"  
  
"I-I-I'm not so sure it's a good idea," Ophelia filled Evan's mind.  
  
"Come on," Jade began to stroke his hand.  
  
"I don't want to say no-"  
  
She cut him off, "Then don't!"  
  
".but, I'm not so sure about yes."  
  
"Well, I am."  
  
"Give me a day to think about it."  
  
Jade had not gotten the answer she wanted to hear, "Oh.okay."  
  
Evan slowly got up and left the table. He now had twenty-four hours to make a decision. Ophelia's name was in every corner of his mind. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen Part I

The next day at rehearsal, Evan did everything he could to avoid Jade. When Ophelia came over he felt somewhat relieved yet he also felt guilty. He should say no to Jade.  
  
"Bonjour."  
  
"Bonjour mademoiselle."  
  
"How are you today?"  
  
"A bit nervous," he replied. "I'm supposed to give Jade an answer today and I don't have one."  
  
"Oh my, she will be disappointed?"  
  
"I'm afraid so. Well, I have things to attend this evening and I haven't been feeling very well. Au revoire."  
  
"Au revoire."  
  
As Evan walked off, he collected his script in a rather untidy fashion. Ophelia was about to turn when she noticed something, "Evan! You dropped some-" he was out of earshot.  
  
Ophelia bit her lip. She knew it was impolite to read another person's business, but temptation took over, as it tends to do. Opening it, Ophelia revealed Evan's secret unto herself. Her mouth hung wide open. This must be what he was writing in the corner! she realized. Ophelia ran out of the playhouse, for some reason the letter had upset her. The whole time he had loved her and never spoke a word of it. While she was on stage, Evan sat in corners obsessing over her. Sure, she hadn't told Evan of her feelings, but Ophelia was still deciding if she had feelings to speak of. Ophelia headed towards Evan's apartment in an angry rage. 


	14. The Letter

Dear Ophelia,  
  
I don't know why or how, but one day I just fell in love with you. There's something about the way the hair falls in your face, the way you smile, the way you walk the just sends a rush through my whole body. You say you've told me things you've never told anyone else, and isn't you one and only the person you could tell anything? I don't know why I look into your eyes and see everything I ever wanted. I could go on with "I don't knows" if I truly wanted to, but I do know I could spend eternity with you if it was given to me. I want the one girl I'm afraid of. The one girl that leaves me at a lost for words. The one girl who can make me smile no matter how upset I am. I said it best when I said it to Ellen one day: I adore you the way I'm not supposed to, even if it is a nightmare pretending I'm alright, it's so hard to ignore because I'm in love with you. You never know what might happen. As the song goes: the greatest love story that was ever told could be me and you, you just never know. 


	15. Chapter Thirteen Part II

Ophelia climbed the stairs in a fury. The psycho! Sitting there thinking of her all day and night without even telling her! Evan was going to pay big for this. Everything had to come to an end once and for all. As she reached the door, Ophelia started to calm down. However, she still believed Evan had to move on. So, she took a deep breath and used her God-given talent to make him believe she hated him.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Evan, you dropped something today," she handed him the letter.  
  
Evan's eyes turned wide with fright, "How much did you read?"  
  
"All of it you little stalker!"  
  
"No, no! That's not it at all!"  
  
"You're talking about eternity in there," she pointed out. "We haven't been out in months, Evan! This is ridiculous! It has to end. I wish to never see or speak to you again."  
  
Ophelia turned away from him and started down the stairs. Evan called her name, he wanted to explain his feelings, but she continued down the stairs. Ophelia's cheeks became stained with tears once more. What she had done had been cruel and hurtful, but she believed Evan would no longer love her if he truly believed she hated him. As she rushed down the street, Ophelia ran into someone.  
  
Evan was sobbing as he held the phone to his ear, "She told me.she never wanted to see me again."  
  
He was talking to Ellen, "Evan, I'm so sorry! She's a stupid bitch, you shouldn't even care about her."  
  
"But I do!"  
  
"I wish I knew what to say, but I can't help but feel you're throwing your life away over a stupid girl who's blind to one of the best people I've ever known."  
  
Evan sniffed, "Thanks Ellen. You're always putting up with this big baby."  
  
"I don't 'put up' with people. You're my best friend Evan."  
  
"Well, I think I'll say 'yes' to Jade now."  
  
"What?" Ellen was greatly confused; Evan was having a breakdown over another woman.  
  
"Well, I don't think I have much chance with Ophelia now and I wasn't completely unflattered that a woman such as Jade would ask me out."  
  
Ellen sighed, "Are you sure you're not just toying with the girl's feelings?"  
  
"Yes, I'm positive."  
  
"Well, good luck I suppose."  
  
"I better be going."  
  
"Goodnight Evan, and I really do support your decision."  
  
"Thank you. Goodnight."  
  
Evan sighed as he hung up the phone. Ellen didn't sound to convincing. He had no chance with Ophelia, why shouldn't he at least try with Jade? Was that so horrible? 


	16. Chapter Fourteen

Ophelia awoke the next morning naked in the arms of Eric. After she had left Evan at his apartment, she ran into Eric and he was there to comfort her. Ophelia couldn't even remember why she had left Eric in the first place.  
  
He kissed her neck, "Morning cherub."  
  
"Morning."  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Much better," she turned in the bed to face him. "You helped a lot."  
  
He gave her a peck, "That's good."  
  
"We should be getting ready for rehearsal."  
  
Ophelia got up and put on Eric's robe while he followed. He took her up in his arms, "What's the rush?"  
  
"No rush, I just want you in the shower."  
  
"With you?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
He let a small laugh and kissed her softly on the lips. Ophelia took Eric by the hand and led her into the shower.  
  
Evan woke up alone and scared. He had had awful dreams all night long. His pillow was soaked with tears. Looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand he groaned. Half an hour until rehearsal. Now not only did he have to face Amelia, but also Jade and Ophelia. He plopped back down on the bed. Perhaps he could call in sick. Bad idea. Evan had already avoided Jade one day, let alone two. He prepared himself for the day and headed out into the streets of Paris. How would he be able to look at Ophelia?  
  
Ophelia and Eric walked in together arm-in-arm. She briefly glanced at Evan, but turned away from him just as quickly. Her main purpose was to make him believe she had no care for him-even as a friend.  
  
Ophelia's cold shoulder had only helped Evan make up his mind further. With a new, and lonely, determination he decided once and for all that he could say yes to Jade. Evan looked around for her. She had been watching him. Jade quickly turned away about to die of embarrassment.  
  
Evan made his way across the theater toward Jade, "Bonjour mademoiselle."  
  
"Bonjour, so.have you come to a decision?"  
  
"Oui."  
  
"Oui you have? Or oui you will?"  
  
"Both."  
  
Jade smiled with great pleasure, "You will?"  
  
"I already said yes."  
  
Jade jumped up and kissed him hard on the mouth but then she pulled away, "One question: Why were you avoiding me yesterday?"  
  
"I wasn't feeling very well," he replied.  
  
"You swear?"  
  
"Swear."  
  
Jade leaned in again and they continued kissing. Evan was, to say the least, pleased but he could not help but think of Ophelia. Was she watching him? Was she jealous? Evan pulled away. Ellen's words began to fill his head. She hadn't sounded quite convincing on the phone. Had he made a mistake?  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," he lied. "I'm just worried I may still be ill and I wouldn't want you to catch whatever I have."  
  
"Nonsense," she replied. "We can be sick together."  
  
That jerk! Ophelia thought to herself. I was out of the picture for one day and he already has a new girlfriend?! Sure, I have Eric, but I wasn't the one who sat there obsessing every waking moment!  
  
Confusion took over Ophelia's senses. She stumbled through her entire rehearsal whenever she was onstage. Suddenly Ophelia realized that forcing Evan to believe she had nothing but malice for him would be harder than she thought.  
  
Evan sat alone in his apartment on the phone with Ellen once again. He found himself there quite often. She had met someone, a man by the name of Daniel.  
  
"I was at a car race," she explained. "He was one of the drivers and I met him."  
  
"Is it love?"  
  
"Evan, you know I don't believe in all of that stuff."  
  
"Is it love?"  
  
"You know what? I think it might be. If he asked me to go out on a date with him right now I think I could easily fall in love."  
  
"If?"  
  
"Yes, if. Evan, we both know I don't believe in love-at-first-sight the way you do. Love has to grow."  
  
"If you feel that way."  
  
"But Daniel." she sighed. "He's kind of shy around me, but when we do talk I feel so wonderful. Daniel's like this perfect guardian angel."  
  
"You got it bad!"  
  
She giggled, "I know!"  
  
"So, what are you going to do?"  
  
"Well, I think I'll need your help with that. Well, let me rephrase that. I'll need your support. I've got five tickets to a show in a little more than a week. The day after the cast party."  
  
"And you want me to come?"  
  
"Exactly. Yes, you and a girlfriend of mine: Samantha."  
  
"What about the fifth?"  
  
"Bring Jade."  
  
"Will do."  
  
"Listen, I got to go. I'll talk to you later."  
  
"Night," Evan put the phone on the receiver.  
  
Jade? Evan had quite forgotten about her. He picked up the phone again. He got the answer machine, "Hey, it's Jade. Leave a message."  
  
The phone beeped, "Hey, Jade. Honey, I was wondering if you'd like to do something this weekend. Give me a call."  
  
Evan had already forgotten his new girlfriend in a matter of hours. Now she was out. Were they going to have enough time for each other? Evan was already having second thoughts. 


End file.
